


Eighth Wonder

by electroholic



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (Not Tommy), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Anti-Hero, Fluff and Angst, Hero Worship, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Test Fic, organisations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:07:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electroholic/pseuds/electroholic
Summary: Tommyinnit is dragged to a work interview after school by his best friend and later meets someone who will become one of his closest friends.(This is the first chapter I’ve written and I’m only posting it to see if anyone would be interested in more because I have already planned some stuff out. I’ll be deleting this if I do turn it into a full story.)
Relationships: Jschlatt & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Time Deo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 125





	Eighth Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO ME AGAIN
> 
> so this is the first chapter of my story “Eighth Wonder” and I’m only posting it to see if it would receive good reception so yeah

“What exactly are we doing here again?” Tommy asks, shoving his phone into his pocket as he turns to face Tubbo.

They must look a right sight. Two blonde boys —one freakishly tall for his age and the other dressed like he’s still in primary school— standing on one of the dodgiest streets in the entirety of Esempeii, in front of one of the most infamous bars of the whole city. Well, infamous in Tommy’s mind anyways. Mostly because Tubbo never shuts up about it— that’s besides the point anyways. 

“We’re here to get jobs remember? I got us both interviews with Schlatt!” Tubbo reminds him. 

“Uh huh...” Tommy agrees. He really doesn’t remember when he agreed to get a job but it’s not like he doesn’t have the spare time for it, especially with his family fucking off to Narnia for weeks on end with no communication all the time. 

“It should be open right about... now! Hey Schlatt!” Tubbo cheers. 

Tommy turns to eye the man who opens the door, horns curling out from underneath curly brown hair and a cigarette hanging from his lips. The man raises an eyebrow at them before brushing the ash of his fingertips onto the green apron around his waist and opening the door for them to come inside. 

“Do me a favour and turn the sign for me kid?” ‘Schlatt’ calls out to Tommy, making his way behind the bar to grab three glasses that he fills with what seems to be apple juice —Tubbo really comes here with often enough do that man to know his favourite drink— before placing them on the countertop. 

Tommy shrugs and flips the sign on the door to display the bar as open, following after Tubbo to hop on the stool besides the other who’s seemingly unaware of everything but Schlatt. Tommy hasn’t seen Tubbo smile at anyone like that since they were little, watching Hypnos’ Acolytes make their debut in the city centre after beating off some alien mob that no one remembers the name of. 

“What can I do for you?” Schlatt looks bored, smoke drifting towards them as he takes a drag, unbothered by Tubbo scrunching up his face. 

“Our interviews are scheduled now, remember?” Tubbo tugs on his sleeves nervously. 

“Oh... huh. Yeah I forgot about that but we can do those now. Uh you got your documents for me?” Schlatt asks, gesturing in their direction with his glass. Tubbo nods eagerly and pulls out two files, one with his information and the other with Tommy’s. 

Tommy’s seen his file too many times for his age. There’s practically nothing but basic, obvious, information in there. He’s tried to get a job a few times before, but the information was so basic and scarce that they deemed it to be fake. 

Schlatt sighs and puts his glass down, leaning against the bar to slide the folders towards himself. 

“You good with mechanics kid?” Schlatt’s voice pulls him from his reverie and he swirls round, nodding hesitantly with his brows pulled right. 

The man has already pushed Tubbo’s folder aside, seemingly focused on Tommy’s but for reasons other than they’re usually focused on. Maybe he’s just got a better idea of who Tubbo is from the amount of afternoons the boy spends here studying with Ranboo. 

“Hmm... suppose you have to be huh?” The man pushes slightly, testing his boundaries of how far he can dig into Tommy’s background. 

“That gonna be an issue big man?” 

“Not at all. I’m not exactly in the best place to complain about it,” Schlatt disagrees. 

Tommy tunes in further after that comment, curious if he’s found someone (supposedly) like him. 

“Your brothers the Crafts?” Schlatt doesn’t seem to like that at all. Tommy wonders if for the first time in a while, he adoptive brothers have taken something from him again before he can even have it. 

“I’m adopted. They’re not around much anyways and they won’t be coming here any time soon.”

Schlatt hums in acknowledgment. The tension in his shoulders unfurls and Tommy finds himself intrigued. What can this random man have against his brothers? 

“You don’t seem much like them.”

“‘Cause I’m not and never will be big man. Check my levels if you don’t believe me.” Techno and Wilbur have always had extremely over average power levels, flaunting that fact throughout their entire lives. Their father, Philza, never stopped them either. Tommy thinks it’s most likely because the man is also of the same status in life. 

“What levels?” Schlatt jokes and Tubbo eyes the man in horror but Tommy just cackles loudly. 

Levels —scientifically known as ‘power levels’— are the scale that the government uses to measure your power. The higher your power levels, the higher you are in the hierarchy. The lower your power levels are, well... you can guess how that turns out. It’s the same with auras, not that many people can see them: the higher your power levels, the brighter your aura and the other way around for lower levels. Tommy despises the scale and hierarchy with everything he has. 

“Too true.” Tommy sniffs, mouth curling up into a smirk that the man across from hun shares. 

“You’re both hired.”

Huh, that was easy. 

“But you didn’t even interview us!” Tubbo squeals, ever the law abiding citizen. Tommy doesn’t remember a time his best friend has ever gone against a rule in his life. Maybe in like year four when he ate an extra apple piece. 

“So you don’t want the job?” 

“Well— I didn’t say that!” Tubbo pouts and Schlatt snorts. 

“I’ll give you the timetable and you can fill in whenever your free.” The man walks into a back room, producing a piece of paper which he places in front of the duo with a pen. 

“I can take night shifts,” Tommy says as he sees Tubbo’s hesitance. “I can do whenever really.”

“I only have one worker besides you two at the moment, his names Quackity. He’s a bit off his rocker and he shows up late a lot but he tries his best.” The name sounds sort of familiar to Tommy who tilts his head with a frown, trying to think where he’d heard the name before. “He works with The Guardians,” Schlatt pipes up, recognising his confusion. 

Both Tommy and Tubbo’s lips curl but one is in disgust, the other excitement. “He sounds cool!” Tubbo exclaims, eyes shining. Tommy grunts, he’s never been fond of the hero types in this city, especially not the ones who work with for The Guardians like Hypnos’ Acolytes and Unit X. 

They sit there for a while, Tubbo chatting with Schlatt who barely keeps up with his excited nattering as he babbles on about anything and everything he can think of. Tommy’s just glad he can take his time putting reminders into his phone for the times he’ll be taking shifts, filling up most of his week and weekend nights with something other to do than messing aimlessly with machinery. 

“Isn’t it about time you be getting home?” Schlatt asks as soon as the sky starts to fade to pinker hues, a sign that night is coming rapidly and that the wrongens are about to be prowling the streets. This bar included. 

Tubbo had taken him here straight after school on a Friday evening, barely even saying goodbye to their friends before tugging Tommy down the lanes and shortcuts to the bar they’re currently in—  _ The Podium _ , it’s called. 

“Oh shoot, my mum will kill me if I’m late!” Tubbo bemoans, gathering everything up and pulling his coat on. 

“You going too kid?” Schlatt asks Tommy. 

“I could stay,” Tommy offers. 

“Go rest tonight. I’ll show you both the ropes tomorrow.” 

Tommy shrugs, if he insists. If it were anyone else, they would’ve already been forced to serve the customers who’re milling around inside the dimly lit booths surrounding them. Schlatt had been serving them whenever they came over to the counter and Tommy can admit he’s impressed with how busy The Podium actually is. 

“Goodnight Schlatt!” Tubbo calls as he pulls Tommy out who halfheartedly waves before turning to make sure he doesn’t fall. 

Tommy follows Tubbo quietly, listening to the other boy spouting hero-worship for a few minutes before tuning him out again. He doesn’t understand when Tubbo will learn he’d rather drink cat piss than ever talk about heroes with the other in anything but a negative light. 

He’s never liked heroes.  _ Never _ . 

Eventually they split paths at Tubbo’s front lawn, the boy bounding in through his front door with a quick goodbye. Tommy can hear him yelling to his parents as he slams the door behind him, leaving nothing but silence. 

Tommy sighs to himself, shaking his head as he continues down the path home. 

Home isn’t far from here, maybe ten minutes but Tommy doesn’t have a curfew —he’s never had a curfew, he wouldn’t listen if he did either— so he takes his sweet time, backpack swinging against his side as he balances on the curb. 

He’s so close, can see the light of his own bedroom he forgot to turn off, when he catches sight of a figure on a nearby roof. 

That in itself, isn’t unusual, people are on roofs all the time. Whether it be because of people with the power of flight using them as a landing pad or to avoid confrontation, it was all quite common for people to be walking on roofs at this time of the night. 

Except this is the Antarctic Empire and everyone here is far too posh to walk along roofs when they can flaunt their wings by racing through the wide streets. 

So, Tommy does what nobody else would do in this situation and climbs up the fire escape to the roof the person he spotted is on. 

The figure doesn’t seem to hear him, eyes focused on the light in their lap that can only be a phone so Tommy walks up behind them, peering over their shoulder to get a glimpse of what’s so enthralling. 

“What’re you looking at?” He asks, moving back when the figure whips around like expected, hands curled into fists and ready to be launched his way. 

The person eyes him momentarily before dropping his hands with a relived sigh. 

Tommy must say, their get up is quite interesting if not basic. Black sunglasses, black trench coat, black boots— the figure is dressed all in black. Very sketchy when Tommy considers that light blue is the most common colour worn around these parts and within the higher status’. 

“Fucking hell you scared me kid.” The guys voice is deep, almost intimidating if you ignored the fact that Tommy didn’t live and grow up with Technoblade. 

“Why’re you on the roof to definitely not your house?” He asks, moving to sit besides the guy as he returns to his spot on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the edge. 

“Well usually no one sees me,” the man grumbles. 

“Usually I’m already inside my house at this point,” Tommy counters. It’s true, if the man claims to be here that often, Tommy had only missed spotting him by being too absorbed in whatever he’s up to in his room. 

“What’s your name kid?” The guy grunts, twisting to look at Tommy. Tommy can make out a faint glow behind his sunglasses and raises an eyebrow slightly. This person definitely isn’t from around here: nobody tries to stop or hide their powers from acting out unconsciously on anybody around here, especially not when it’s to do with the eyes. Two houses down, there’s a man who’s eyes can make you forget what you’re supposed to be doing and everyone learnt to just avoid his eyes after a while, the man never wore anything to protect them against it so they had to adapt themselves. 

Maybe that’s why he answers honestly. “Tommy. You?” 

“Deo.”

“What’re you doing in the Antarctic Empire so late at night  _ Deo _ ?” And it actually seemed to be the mans real name. Either this man is really careless or really naive to be trusting Tommy, a stranger, this easily. 

“Scouting the area.”

Huh. 

“Is it as dodgy as it sounds?” Tommy inquires in a whisper, turning to follow Deo’s eyes as he tracks the lady from number seven as she walks up the street, skin shimmering beneath the lampposts as she struts. 

“Sure,” Deo snorts, quirking an eyebrow at him, “I’m only wondering why crime rates increasing everywhere but in the posh areas.”

“Because people believe  _ heroes _ will save the rich.”

“So we’re on the same page then? Down with all heroes?” 

“Oh you’re already my new favourite stranger,” Tommy agrees. 

“I’m flattered.” Deo jokes, jotting things down in his notebook absentmindedly. 

“If you’re looking for the muggers you’re in the wrong town. All the wrongens are on the other side of the city.”

Deo looks at him, considering. “You know a lot about the criminals around these parts?” 

“I spend my time in the dodgy parts of town, there’s no point in the low levels going after someone who’s powerless when they’re closer to it than these stuck up bastards.” 

“...powerless and you live...  _ here _ ?”

“Adopted by the Crafts. No, I don’t know why.” 

“Isn’t it quite dangerous for you here then?” Deo inquires, shutting his notebook to fully pay attention to Tommy. 

“Sometimes sure. Usually I’m out of the way though so it’s not too bad. Out of sight, out of mind innit?”

“Why’re you out so late then kid?” 

Tommy wishes this man would stop calling him _kid_. 

“A friend dragged me down town to get a job because he hero-worships the owner,” Tommy explains, legs swinging off the edge of Number twelves roof. 

“I’ll be seeing you around then?” 

“Sure thing.” Tommy stands, brushing his trousers off as Deo asks what seems to be a dismissal. “Goodbye mr stalker!” He calls, jumping down the fire escape. 

“Not a stalker!” Deo calls back angrily, waving as he watches Tommy enter his own house. “What a weird kid...”

Tommy sighs as he makes his way upstairs, body heavy with exhaustion. He’d been up all night trying to finish working on Chirp again and by the time he had made any progress his alarm was blaring loudly from across the room. 

Flopping onto his bed, Tommy doesn’t even think about where his family might be, instead choosing to fall asleep to the sounds of the empty street outside. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think and if I should write more because I’ve had this idea stewing for a while and there will be a lot more angst and backstory to come.
> 
> P.s. there’s a reason Tommy hates heroes ;)


End file.
